


Letters Going Nowhere

by still_lycoris



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Depression, Epistolary, Letters, M/M, Self-Acceptance, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 10:06:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5623420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles writes letters to Raven about his life, even though there's nowhere to send any of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letters Going Nowhere

Dear Raven,

I keep thinking about you so I thought I’d write. You haven’t written to me yet so I can’t actually post this to you but maybe you will soon. I’ll probably write a whole new letter then but I just wanted to get some things down on paper.

Are you all right? Are you taking care of yourself? I must have been mad, letting you go but I was in quite a bit of pain at the time. Still letting you run off with two people I didn’t know, one person I barely knew and someone I _thought_ I knew … ridiculous behaviour. I know that you can take care of yourself but still.

I’m doing very well, on the whole. My legs are of course, completely painless, but it turns out when you’re getting used to your body working in a whole new way, you develop interesting pains in odd places. My shoulders are killing me right now. I’m sure I’ll get used to it all, in time. 

The others are all fine. Hank misses you a lot, you know. We’ve been talking quite a bit – not about you but about getting used to new bodies. Hank’s the only one who understands that right now. He’s not really enjoying being “Beast” and it makes his temper shorter too, which is interesting. I’ve had to stop him and Alex fighting three times already.

I’m not angry with Erik (well, not about my legs.) It wasn’t his fault. I know it wasn’t. It wasn’t Moira’s fault either (she was doing the right thing.) I should have stayed on the ground. I should never have let it get to that point. I should have done things differently, I know. I don’t know how things got so out of control ...

I miss you. Please write to me soon.

Lots of love,

Charles.

*

Dear Raven,

You still haven’t written. Are you just very busy? Perhaps it’s that.

I’m very busy too. Trying to get the house in a better state for a school. I hope one day, there will be enough students to open the whole house but right now, that would be pretty stupid so we’re working at closing wings, getting the rooms ready … of course, I’m rather useless for physical work and having workmen in is difficult when Hank is around. He tends to hide in his lab if there’s anybody about but I know it makes him feel a bit uncomfortable. He’s still working on a serum to fix himself and to be honest, I hope he succeeds. Partly because it would make him happier but selfishly, because when I catch him out of the corner of my eye, I briefly think it’s you and … well, to be quite frank, it hurts.

Darling, I miss you. Why can’t you just call me and say you’re all right? I promise not to be angry or ask you anything about what you’re doing with Erik. I just want to know that you’re okay. 

You would call and ask for help if you needed it, wouldn’t you?

Lots of love,

Charles.

*

Dear Raven,

Everything hurts today. Hank told me I should stay in bed so I have but I can’t sleep so I thought I’d write instead. Hank says I have an infection of some sort but he thinks I’ll be fine. It’s weird being examined by him. He’s _furry_ and it tickles. Also embarrassing. When we first met Hank, I have to say that I never thought he’d get to see quite as much of my body as he has. 

Because ~~if~~ _when_ you write to me, I’m bound to write another letter, I think I’ll put this here; right now I rather hate my body. Is that stupid? I just want it to _work_ , the way it used to. I don’t like the way it feels. I don’t like the way it looks even. I’ve gained weight because I can’t exercise the way I used to. Except for my legs. They look thinner than they should. 

There’s all these other exercises that I can do, of course. I’m doing them. When I get used to this, I’ll do better. It’s early days. Early days. But today, I just want it all to fuck off.

God I miss you. If you were here, I know you could cheer me up. The boys try but it’s not the same. I’m Professor X to them (what a stupid name, what were you thinking?) I have to try and stay strong. Hank sees me at my weakest because he’s our “doctor” but even with him, I have to keep cheerful. I have to keep … looking like myself.

_Why won’t you just come home?!?!_

Sorry. I think I should stop now.

I love you.

Charles.

*

Dear Raven,

President Kennedy is dead. There’s a lot of rumours flying around. They’re not true, are they? Please? You wouldn’t be involved in something so stupid. You wouldn’t let Erik do something so awful. Please, Raven? Please call me. I’ll help you. Come home. I’ll look after you. It’s going to be fine. I promise.

I love you so much.

Charles.

*

Raven,

Alex has been doing some snooping for us. My only comfort is that there doesn’t seem to be any sign that you were there. Or if you were, you got away. I suppose you could get away from something like that quite easily, couldn’t you? You talent makes you invisible, when you want it to. Would you just abandon Erik? Maybe you would. How should I know? I thought I knew you before.

I’m so angry with Erik. I’m so angry with _you_. I don’t know what to think any more. Why would you do that? Why would he do that? What were you both thinking? And now you’re on your own – or are you still with those murderers? Because that’s what they are, they killed people for nothing and I’m _so angry_.

You’ve made your bed. Lie in it then. See if I care.

Charles.

_I care, I care, I didn’t mean this, Raven come home, why won’t you come home I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please come home …_

*

Dear Raven.

I haven’t written for a very long time, I know. On the other hand, you haven’t written for longer so it hardly matters, does it?

Things are different here. So wrong. So very wrong. 

My school is closed. My school. I put so much effort, so much _hope_ … it’s all drained away right now. Like air out of a balloon. I feel empty.

Alex is gone. I hope he’s all right out there. I’ve been trying to tell myself that I’ve made a difference in his life. That he’s so much happier since we met. Not in solitary any more, able to interact with people. So I did well at something, didn’t I? I helped somebody.

I can’t talk about Sean. I just can’t.

Hank’s still here. I don’t know why; he completed that serum of his a long time ago. All the hiccups have long been ironed out, he could go anywhere he wanted but he’s still here, still with me. Maybe he’s scared of what’s out there. I’ve been trying to keep out of his mind. I’ve been trying to stay out of everybody’s minds.

My own mind hurts right now. It’s funny, I’ve been doing this since I was nine but I never realised how bloody awful everything was before. Even out here, I can hear voices all the time. Miserable, despairing voices. Worried about their men out in Vietnam, worried about their families here, about money, about babies, about houses … it goes on and on and I can’t stop it and it hurts, it hurts too much to bear …

Are you out there worrying too?

I probably couldn’t help you if you were here anyway.

I can’t help anybody.

Self-pity. So unattractive. Not that it matters. The last person I kissed was Moira and that was self-serving really. She deserved better than what I did to her.

I’m such a bastard.

Is that why you left?

*

Dear Raven,

You will never believe what Hank has given me for Christmas!

He’s been messing with his serum for months, apparently. So that it would work on me. He wanted to give me my legs back, said he could manage it. And he did but even better, even better … the voices are so much quieter. I don’t know what he’s done exactly, _he_ doesn’t, he’s talking about fixing it but to be honest, I like it better this way. If I take a bigger dose, maybe I won’t be able to hear them at all. God, I’d love that. To finally have some quiet …

I didn’t buy you a Christmas present this year. I thought there probably wasn’t any point. You haven’t come for the others, after all.

I still love you.

Charles.

*

Dear Raven,

Hank and I had a screaming row last night, over where the _coffee cups_ were of all things. I mean, obviously, that’s not _really_ what were fighting about but it was what sparked it all off. I was pretty awful to him, actually. I called him some pretty terrible names. Usually, he gets hurt but instead, he got angry and called me some pretty terrible names back. So we screamed at each other for a while and then he stormed off to his lab and I stormed off to the study.

We’ve made up now. He came in this morning and apologised which made me feel like shit because why is _Hank_ apologising? I started it, after all. I always start it. It’s what I do these days. I don’t know what’s wrong with me any more.

I told Hank I was sorry. He said it was all right but I don’t know if it really was. How can it be? I was, quite frankly, a complete bastard and I have been for a while. I told him he could leave if he wanted but he told me that he didn’t want it. That he’d never want to leave me.

I don’t deserve him, do I?

Yours,

Charles

*

I can walk. I can’t hear the voices. I should be happy. Why aren’t I happy? I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do. _I don’t know what to do_.

You should be here to help me. I helped you. I helped you and you _left_ me ~~you’re an ungrateful _bitch_~~ I’m sorry I’m sorry I didn’t mean that I just get angry I don’t want to be angry I’m sorry I love you and I’m so sorry I’m so sorry I failed you failed everybody I’m so sorry

*

Dear Raven,

I had sex with Hank last night.

I didn’t mean it to happen but I suppose it was inevitable, really. I can’t remember when I last saw another person and Hank doesn’t go out so much these days either. I’ve been trying to spend more time with him too, trying to make sure he knows how much I care, how much I appreciate him staying with me. We were just lying on the rug in the study, talking and got closer together and … well. It happened.

Are you angry with me? I don’t know. Maybe. No, I don’t think you would be. I know you and he never actually made the thing between you work, after all. And it’s been eight years (is it nine now? I’ve rather lost track) And you’ve been with Erik, I’m sure. I’m not angry about that, you know. He and I weren’t actually together either. Oh, we both _wanted_ it – but it was never the right moment. I had this fantasy that after everything was sorted, I’d sweep him off his feet somehow, that we’d go on an actual date and it would be perfect. He was thinking something similar, we both … we were enjoying the anticipation, I suppose. Both of us thinking how much fun the eventual moment would be … not realising that there wouldn’t _be_ an eventual moment.

I don’t know if Hank and I … I don’t know what it means. Probably nothing. Just two lonely men in a mansion, trying to comfort each other when there’s nothing else left. I liked it though. Even when we had to pause so he didn’t go furry in the middle. He was upset about that but I told him I didn’t mind and you know, I really didn’t. I wouldn’t have cared particularly if he’d transformed completely – well, all right, that might have been a bit alarming depending on when it happened but I just don’t really care any more. I don’t think it matters so much, what you look like.

I’m sorry I didn’t understand that before. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you, I promise. I thought I was just looking after you but I was smothering you. I couldn’t see a way that wasn’t mine. And now it’s too late.

I know you’re never going to write to me. I know I’ll never have anywhere to send this letter. I don’t really care any more. Or rather, I do but there’s no point. It’s easier to stop feeling. I don’t think I’m going to write to you any more. I don’t think it helps. But then, nothing has helped for a long time. This is the closest but I know better than Hank that sex can’t fix everything. Can’t fix anything. This is the soberest I’ve been for a while but it won’t last. I don’t want it to last. I’m just too tired to try any more.

But I love you. And I do miss you. I hope you’re safe and well and happy. 

Yours, always.

Charles.

*

Dearest Raven,

Thank you for writing to me – yes, I was very, very glad to know that you’re all right. I was sure that you _were_ but it was still good to know.

Yes, Hank and I got away from Washington fairly easily – to be honest, the most difficult thing was that Hank didn’t have any shoes! (the head wound looked worse than it was, although I wouldn’t recommend getting a stadium dropped on you for good health and happiness!) I think a lot of different agencies would have liked to talk to us but I’d rather do that when things have calmed down a bit – and when I’m not quite so tired and sore! And when I’m a little more comfortable in my wheelchair again – how silly to have done all that work getting used to it and to have to do it all again. I’ll manage it though, I know. I’m accepting who I am now.

You’ve had practise at that, I know.

I don’t blame you for anything. I am sorry for every way that I failed you and I promise that I will never let you down again. I understand that you might not want to come back for a while but please come back to visit some day – Hank would love to see you too (no, I haven’t told him that I’ve written that because he would be embarrassed. And yes, while he _is_ rather sweet when he’s embarrassed, I do try not to put him through it randomly!) If you’d rather not come to the mansion, perhaps we could meet somewhere else? There’s so much I want to say – about myself and Hank, about these ten years. There’s things I’d like to ask you too, so very much. But I think we can wait until we see each other.

We have time.

I love you.

Charles.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 12dayshchristmas


End file.
